. Men were not meant to sit at desks for nine hours while dreaming about bullfighters in Mexico City, and those drunks at the local dime and shine wondering if they had the right idea. Men were not meant to lie around on weeknights staring at brightly lit but always unsatisfying images of death and love, intertwined like a strange dance that the bulls can relate too. Men were not meant to idle through their days wondering if they have wasted their lives, while the kids move away and forget their love, and the wife finds a new attention-giver with a faster car. Men were not meant to start over at fifty-three wishing for once they could lift a red veil and feel the bulls brush against them. .

. I've come home three times now drunk in the last few weeks and left myself strange messages on the post-it pad by the phone. Message #1: The universe exists to create life. Life exists to explain the the universe. We are the twinkie that ate itself. Message #2: Spirals! It's all spirals! Message #3: WHERE DO CIRCLES BEGIN! .

. I shouldn't be watching TV. I'm suppose to be working from home. So as a compromise I mute the TV. I'm working now. On the TV someone is opening a can of black paint while two bemused faces watch in awe. It's obvious something is about to be painted black. Such a bold choice. I'm betting the couple will hate it but smile anyway. *CLICK* Two detectives are grilling a happless junkie over an interrogation room table. They want answers, NAY! they demand answers. He tries to stay strong but eventually breaks under their relentless pressure and pleas for morality. He sings like a little birdy. He realizes there are a lot of things in his life he needs to change. *CLICK* A lover is being betrayed. All lovers betray I scream at them. She cries. He is racked with guilt. He wants to go back. She forgives but can't forget. They will go on together but always feel alone. My work seems unimportant now. People out there have it worse than me. .

he put everything back, in it's right place

. I was with him in the car and there was a salesman with us who we were taking to see something, anyway, I was like dude did you ever remember the songs we listened to in the eighties and he was like yeah I remember them, so I asked why he didnt rememeber any of the words he was like, well cause I couldn't hear them and I was like, dude your hearing wasnt that bad its only got bad recently, and I just stayed quiet wondering what the fuck he was talking about and he goes, "yeah... the jackhammers.. .I was an idiot..." .

. I thought about leaving my hollow, boxlike place a few times today, but the rain is keeping me home. There's something equally eerie, romantic, and sad about the way the rain sounds in this apartment, as it soaks my dirty windows and dilapidated porch. I just can't bring myself to leave. .

We are all crying babies returned to mothers...

I'm in Baltimore, but it's not raining. It's so cold. The streets feel lonely. There is like a deafening fog creeping in from the bay. Everyone is bundled up, shut off. I come to the entrance of my hotel, but keep walking. There is something equally depressing and uplifting about this place at this time.

that I can remember was the one crushed in between a weeks worth of rain it was thanksgiving or close to it the sky was black the office was empty and I sat there the phone never rang the e-mails never chimed in letting me know that someone, somewhere, knew where I was counting the hours watching the rain watching the black feeling like the last puppy at the pound wondering if anyone would be coming for me as I set there, doing my time I realized that I have indeed wasted my life and the gloomiest day had claimed it's only victim .

I have an idea for a new company called Shoot You Into Space. I'm all about literal names. I guess I could call it AeroQuest or something crap like that. The idea is that if you get terminally ill, or maybe just old or you just get bored with life, whatever, we will put you in a little pod (for a small fee of course) and we'll pack it with food and water, enough for say 3-4 months and then we'll shoot your ass into space! You can spend the last few months of your life floating around and seeing the solar system, cosmos, etc, that only a few people get to see in their lives. Oh and we also give you a cyanide capsule to take if you don't want to starve or freeze to death once you get too far out there. Think about it. Beats laying in a hospital bed dieing your ass off right?